


Blank Stare

by Lunarium



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dolls, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maglor notices something is odd about his brother Curufin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blank Stare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uumuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/gifts).



“Curvo?” 

Makalaurë called out upon seeing the tiny form of his brother in the middle of the long hall. He had been walking with his body leaning against the wall. 

“Curvo, are you lost?” he asked, amusement and adoration in his tone as he crouched next to his young brother. Curvo was but two years in years but could speak as well as any adult, yet he only looked up at Makalaurë silently, eyes wide and - almost timid, Makalaurë noted. 

“Come with me, brother,” he said gently. “Did you perhaps have a bad dream? Are you hungry?” 

Curvo said nothing, but he gripped Makalaurë’s leg instead and followed him to his room. When he did not take his favorite spot on the floor pillows, Makalaurë grew worried. He coaxed his brother onto his usual spot, unsure if his mother was back from the markets or if his father in too deep in his own work to want to get bothered. 

_I can handle this_ , Makalaurë thought stubbornly, picking up his lute and settling beside his brother. _I raised Curvo as much as they have, if not more._

“Would you like me to play you one of my songs?” he asked gently, melodically, to the child who simply gazing ahead, turning his head again to stare blankly, at Makalaurë. “I know you love the one about the first elves of Cuiviénen. You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you right now if you cannot find the right words. Just listen and relax. How about that?” 

Again Curvo turned to him and raised his head. Then raised his head again. And again until his head rolled right off his shoulders. 

Makalaurë’s anguished, frightened shrieks engulfed the entire house, his heart pounding so great it nearly ripped out of his chest, though he could not more, unable to tear his eyes from his brother. 

“Oh no! The head fell off!” laughed a little voice - Curvo - that drew Makalaurë silent. Panting, he turned to see Curvo, in one piece and grinning and as healthy as can be, studying him and the other Curvo from the doorway. 

“I don’t understand…” Makalaurë said as the real Curvo ran inside and picked the other up. Their father appeared by the doorframe moments later, unable to suppress the smirk as he stood with his arms folded, regarding Makalaurë. 

“Curvo and I have been working on making dolls that move,” he explained. “They do not have a mind of their own. They will walk on automatic, turn to wherever they hear a sound, and follow someone when commanded to, but beyond that they are insentient. They still need some work.” 

“And you chose Curvo as your prototype?” Makalaurë asked. 

“The others will look different,” Fëanáro promised. 

“I wanted another Curvo,” Curvo said, hugging his double and grinning up at Makalaurë. “We just need to figure out how to keep their heads attached, or there won’t be many pleased children this Yule, father.” 

“Yule,” Makalaurë repeated in bewilderment as the two left, sighing deeply. “Oh, my.”


End file.
